Mr & Mrs
by chartreuseian
Summary: One incident of indecent exposure was all it took for Nikola Tesla to end up with a bride. A reluctant, bristling and utterly beautiful bride. But would he lose a friend too?


Taking a deep breath, Nikola fixed his gaze on the ornate stained glass window that towered over the congregation muttering behind him. He could only make out snippets of conversation from time to time but, what little he heard did nothing for the trembling of his limbs that had begun at daybreak.

Or perhaps it had started the night before?

After all, he'd barely slept, tossing and turning until the pink light of dawn had reached his tired eyes. It was not the first time Nikola had been up to watch the sunrise yet this time it had seemed different; not so much the dawning of a new day as it was the dawning of a new era.

He shivered as a gust of frigid air swept through the old church, a waft of unfamiliar incense filling his nose. He'd been in many churches before, his father demanding attendance at every sermon until the day Nikola turned 18, however, since arriving in England, he'd made a point of avoiding such structures. He seriously doubted he would have been able to find a community practicing the Serbian Orthodox faith of his childhood, even if he had so desired.

In fact, that was what made this whole situation so much more laughable. He was not a follower of the Church of England and he doubted the man forcing him to participate in this ritual could honestly call himself a man of God with his devotion to science and the scientific world. It was all so... so... so... He couldn't find the word in English, his frustrations bubbling up in his native tongue alone.

It was unfair.

There were other words, stronger words but unfair seemed to sum it all up rather neatly. And Nikola never had been one for flowery words and verbose descriptions. So he would settle for unfair, even if it did not come close to covering the scope of the crime being committed against him.

He still could not quite understand how things had gotten to a point where he was standing at a Catholic alter, wearing top hat and morning coat, surround by people he did not know, let alone like as he waited for a priest to walk in and lecture him on the religious principles he fought as a child.

His father would have been furious.

The thought of his father sent a fresh bolt of cold sweat around Nikola's body and he swallowed reflexively. Though they had never gotten on, his father had ingrained into Nikola a strong sense of moral obligation that was currently warring with his better judgement.

For all he knew he would be subjected to fury, the likes of which he had not seen since Dane's passing, Nikola dearly wished he could have summoned the courage to even write to his father for advice. He knew his obligations, he knew he was required to protect his friend in any way he could yet still, there was a niggling sense of wrong-doing that he felt he didn't deserve.

Sighing, Nikola shifted his weight and closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the eyes he could feel on his back. All he needed to do was steady himself. It was a trick he had developed as a boy, teased mercilessly through out school and in need of an escape. Whenever he felt lost or alone or afraid, all he had to do was settle himself, find a steady centre within him that would allow him to think clearly.

Today, however, it was not working.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to adjust the too big coat he'd been stuffed into a few hours earlier. Despite the unseasonably cool September weather, he felt over-heated and over-dressed. The slick in his hair was running down his neck, an over-zealous attack on the flyaway strands now coming back to haunt him. He had been desperate to present the image of a proper gentleman, despite his cussings late into the night. It felt like his duty, no matter how little he wanted to be there.

After all, he owed that to her, didn't he? He owed her something better, something more than he could give yet he would try. How could he not? How could he enter into this any other way? He had to give her all that he had, all that he was and all that he was capable of being. She deserved that, at the very least.

And then he heard the wedding march begin.

He reached up and smoothed down the thick moustache on his upper lip, swallowing as he closed his eyes once more. His arms began to shake again, his knees threatening to give out on him while his hands desperately twisted against one another, no doubt ruining the silk gloves he had been loaned for the occasion.

His heart hammered in his chest, the air in the room suddenly drying up until his lungs felt deprived and shrunken. He needed to get out, to breathe, to lay down. It was all too much, too terrifying, though his mind still struggled to understand what was happening to him. He looked up towards the alter again, trying to focus on the white lilies that decorated the space

The priest was standing before him, looking unreasonably solemn in his pristine robes. Nikola heard the collective intake of breath of the congregation behind him as they all moved to stand. The unmistakable creak of old hinges echoed through the cavernous space while fresh air rushed up the aisle, tickling what little of Nikola's skin was exposed to the autumnal air and suddenly he could not resist the urge to look back.

He wasn't supposed to, that had been drilled into him during the rehearsal. He was supposed to face the front. He was supposed to wait.

But as the music began to swell, the harmonies drifting around the church and up to the spires, he could not stop himself from turning, a shaky gasp slipping through his lips as his eyes went wide at the image before him.

The wind was apparently stronger than he realised, whipping her hair into a golden halo of mussed curls that fell about her face haphazardly while a few red and gold leaves swirled about her feet, carried in on the breeze. The lace of her skirt was flattened against the curves of her body, the wind silhouetting her figure. It was not a dress of the current fashions, of that Nikola was sure. The cut seemed too daring yet it was forward enough for this bride, he decided.

There was a shadow of a man behind her, yet she stood strong, apart from anyone and everyone else. He could not make out her features behind the veil she wore, yet he could picture the elegant dignity with which she would be holding herself.

Though they had barely seen one another over the course of their 'engagement', Nikola finally began to feel somewhat at ease. This was not what he wanted, and he was sure it was not what she wanted either, yet perhaps it could work. Perhaps, with her, this might not be the end of his life, so much as it was the start...

He smiled then, noticing for the first time that around her lithe waist, Helen Magnus had tied a deep red ribbon.


End file.
